


exortus est enim sol

by saintchlorine



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Love, because alessa is dead...Oof, because this is silent hill we're talking about, but not as much of a bastard as he could be so ?, i call this one "claudia is a closet case and i love her", vincent is a bastard as always, yes this is me projecting. no i am not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 16:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintchlorine/pseuds/saintchlorine
Summary: They only had one another, sisters in suffering and in the blood not within their veins but pouring from their wounds.So why did it hurt when Alessa said just that? That they were sisters in all but name and DNA?(in which secrets well-kept cannot always remain that way.)
Relationships: Alessa Gillespie/Claudia Wolf
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	exortus est enim sol

**Author's Note:**

> the title for this fic comes from the latin version of "james 1:11." the whole quote (translated) is, "For the sun rose with a burning heat and parched the grass: and the flower thereof fell off, and the beauty of the shape thereof perished. So also shall the rich man fade away in his ways."
> 
> enjoy!!

It was never easy to tell whether one wants to _be_ another or _love_ another.

There was a deep and profound respect for Alessa that lived within Claudia. It had always been there, probably always would be. She attributed it to Alessa's spiritual prowess and seniority over her; Claudia had never been one to doubt authority, particularly not as a child. It made sense to believe that Alessa’s age and faith were what drew them together. That was much easier, after all. Safer.

Holding Alessa's hand was never strange; it was something girls did. When they played out in the yard, the two would tangle their fingers together and spin in the grass. After a while, they would fall into each other, dizzy and giggling, the way children always do. There was nothing strange about it. Respect was always at the forefront of Claudia's mind.

Alessa read to her every day when they were small. They would sit together, backs to the brick, and she would follow the words with one hand and hold Claudia with the other. Sometimes, she found herself too distracted to listen to the words. A strange twist in her chest would redirect her attention, hyperfocused on the feeling of Alessa's arm around her shoulder. There was nothing strange about it. They were the best of friends.

Their bodies each bore the weight of twin bruises, a mutual suffering wrought in flesh and chaining them together. The other children didn't understand what they felt. Alessa was the only person who knew what it was like to be her. They knew each other's scars. To go home to a man like Leonard every day, a woman like Dahlia, was to bury oneself. There was no escape except that found in one another. When Claudia felt as though she might suffocate, Alessa would take her to their spot in the park and tell her about every new thing she learned that day. She would clean her wounds as well as possible and Claudia would always return the favor. They only had one another, sisters in suffering and in the blood not within their veins but pouring from their wounds.

So why did it hurt when Alessa said just that? That they were sisters in all but name and DNA?

Perhaps she expected something stronger. Not a declaration of sisterhood, but rather of conjoinment. Maybe Claudia needed Alessa to say something more, to expand upon their closeness and validate the attachment Claudia felt. There was nothing strange about that, right? It was normal to want to be someone’s favorite, to want to hear that you are the only thing they think about. 

Right?

Of course, the answer did not lie within Claudia’s high expectations.

She didn't figure it out for years after Alessa's disappearance. She always convinced herself that it was a fluke, a misfiring of childhood emotions, the growing pains of youth confusing her and turning love into hate, respect into admiration into…

It was best not to think about it.

Once adolescence was waning for each of them, Vincent provided a decent distraction. His dreams of reviving the congregation kept her occupied, kept her busy and planning every day. He was a nuisance at best, but there was no denying that he would be able to make it happen. Without his money, the church was sure to die. Claudia couldn't let that happen. Not when Alessa had sacrificed so much for The Order's wellbeing.

In truth, Claudia never cared much for Vincent. She'd known him for her entire life, just as she knew all the children in the church. While his devotion was absolute, his personality left much to be desired. He was a snake of a child, the sort who always got his way by any means necessary. Even when he was very young, adults would be sure to never discuss sensitive matters anywhere near him. Unlike most children, there was no doubt that he would not only comprehend their words but remember them as well. A child, driven to petty and extreme measures by nearly anything, with a secret in their hands was a dangerous thing indeed.

Much to the chagrin of everyone in the church, he didn't change much as he aged either.

Vincent had a great talent for logging information in his mind. He was the observative sort, always watching people and paying attention to everything they did and said. This skill served him well as he reached adulthood; he never lacked in wealth, allies, or secrets for trade. As much as Claudia abhorred all of the above, he was undeniably useful.

She understood their partnership as purely transactional: he had the resources and drive, she had the devotion and knowledge, and they both wanted to rebuild the church. Though they spent much of their time together, Claudia was hesitant to call what they had a friendship. The whole thing was too tenuous, too lacking in care for one another to ever warrant a word so fond. It was simple, _quid pro quo,_ a joining of mutual ambitions out of necessity. There was nothing strange about it.

Until one night, in the newly constructed library, when he kissed her.

Claudia couldn't remember what led up to it. Something innocuous, perhaps an argument or theological discussion or something equally common. Whatever it was, it certainly didn't stand out against the backdrop of her memories. She remembered that he smelled of liquor; again, not an unusual occurrence. Had she needed him less, she might have chastised him for such frivolity. As it stood, she chose not to. After all, it didn't impact his ability to shill out money for employees or dangle secrets over the heads of townspeople. A bit of drinking on his part had never caused her any strife before.

But then he leaned forward in his seat, took her face in his hands, and _kissed her._

She shoved herself away instantly, hands drawn up to her chest and wringing as her heart raced. To her surprise, his expression wasn't one of bitterness or mocking. Vincent looked… confused. As if what she'd done wasn't a part of the plan.

"I didn't…" Vincent started, fumbling over the words.

She didn't know how to explain the anger that rose in her body at the time. Had the catalyst been his actions or his feeble attempt at words? Why did it offend her so that someone might feel such things about her? What was so wrong with it, really?

Some deeply illogical, bitter part of her brain answered _everything._

"Is that what you think of me?" Claudia asked, rising from her seat. "Do you think that I– I _owe you_ something?"

"What are you talking about?" Vincent said, voice high and offended. Rarely did he lose his composure in such a way. Claudia was almost happy to see it; perhaps it meant he was suffering similarly.

"Is it for the church? For appointing me as High Priestess? Did you expect some sort of _payment?_ "

"Good God, _no!_ Of course not," Vincent laughed, though the tone behind it was sour. "Did you really think that I would… Okay, never mind. Don't answer that."

Claudia's silence afterward was answer enough, judging from the way he hung his head and sighed. She realized as she watched him that she was backed against a wall, hands clasped tight in front of her. The posture was distinctly defensive, reducing the amount of space she took up in the room. Old habits die hard.

"I apologize, Claudia. I may have...misread some signals. My mistake."

She realized she'd never heard him heard him apologize, or at least not with any level of sincerity. He wasn't even looking at her, a sure sign that the words were not some little performance of his. How long would it be before they were, though? Vincent certainly couldn't maintain such authenticity for long. She knew him too well for that.

"I understand," Claudia replied after a moment, swallowing thickly. It was a lie, but a polite one. Perhaps they could just forget about it now, move on and dismiss it as some small, drunken misunderstanding. 

"Come to think of it though," Vincent said with a smile, looking back up at her and cocking his head to the side. _Oh no._ "I suppose I'm not your type, hm?"

It was her turn to look away, fixing her gaze on the tile below with wide eyes. He couldn't know, right? She'd never said a word about it to anyone, hadn't even written such things down, there was no way he could–

"I admit, I don't normally go for women such as yourself either. Though we all manage to make exceptions," he drawled. She was going to be sick. "It is a bit harder when someone doesn't meet _any_ of your preferences though, isn't it? Not even the most basic."

At that he stood and leaned back against the desk, looking terribly proud of himself. Claudia kept her head down and closed her eyes, willing the tears gathering to go away. It didn't work.

"Hey, there's no need to cry! Truly, I don't mind that your preference is not with men such as myself. Or, well… Men in general, correct?"

All those years of effort, of denial, of _work_ to keep her secrets– gone. It was all gone now. The last person in the world who should know a secret like that was now the only. In all likelihood, that wouldn't last long. As soon as he got angry with her, it would be over. She would lose her place in the church, lose her following and lose the Order and Leonard–

Oh, he would _kill her._ She didn't even know whether that was hyperbolic or not. It seemed a fair possibility at that point.

Once again, Claudia's silence was her answer.

"Is this about Alessa, then?"

"Don't you dare speak of her," Claudia hissed, finally looking up at Vincent. When their eyes met, he gave her a smug smile. Once again, he'd read her hand easily.

"You were always so attached to her. I thought the same as everyone else, you know. Little kids are so obsessed with older kids, even when "older" only means a year or two. It made sense for you to cling to her; same demons, different face. She was like a big sister, I suppose. Or at least, you were like a little sister to her. After all, your feelings don’t seem entirely _familial_."

"Vincent, stop. Please…" Claudia took a heavy, shuddering breath as she tried to center herself. No weakness. Wolfs weren't _weak._ "Stop."

Vincent nodded, still looking so pleased with himself as he hopped off the desk and made his way to the door. She wanted to beat that smug grin off his face, see how _proud_ he looked with a broken nose, watch the blood–

Without any of the malice or pride that twinged his voice beforehand, Vincent added, "You aren't the only one, you know."

And with that, Claudia was alone. Again. As usual. Maybe she always would be. It all felt so unfair; how horrible that the one person who should know is _him_ and not her, not the only person in the world who deserved to. It wasn’t fair and Claudia knew it was an infantile thing to think, but it was the truth.

The world was such an awful place. Alessa had known that. Saw it. Talked about it so often, wove horrible tales for Claudia about misery and isolation and grief and _guilt,_ always the guilt–

Maybe it was time that someone did something about it.

God wouldn't want her anyway, right?

She wouldn't want any of them. Not herself or Vincent or Leonard; they weren't innocents, and the only one of them who deserved Heaven was gone.

Well…not entirely. The girl was still out there, the Holy One, under the wing of the man who had ruined it all. Alessa was still in there somewhere– maybe not the Alessa she had loved (and God, it was difficult to admit such things) but it was still _her._

There was still time to realize Alessa's vision. It was the right thing to do, after all. She would forever be the sacrificial lamb, in life and death. What was the harm in making sure her sacrifice wasn't for naught? Alessa deserved that. She deserved everything. And Claudia would give her exactly that.

It was all for Alessa.

There was nothing strange about it.

**Author's Note:**

> there is no pact stronger than that of secrecy between two closeted gays
> 
> hit me up on [tumblr](https://saintchlorine.tumblr.com)! comments and kudos are greatly appreciated <3


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